The Legacy of Tirlannon: The Freedom Fighter

by Daniel Gelinske

  “The Lady of Li’istrani has requested your presence should Namakiera fall,” Isendriel added.

  “I will try to stop that from happening, but I must go!”

  Daecrynn sprinted up the inclined walkway and down a straightaway between two rows of hedges, before he reached the open gates to the Mitheldia Garden, and up the set of stairs that lead into the central corridor of the Kestelan's Palace in Namakiera. He ran through a crowded hallway filled with drunken Lords and Ladies of Tarligean, and into the central chamber as a group of minstrels began to erupt into song.

  "Clear out of my way, in the name of the Lord of Andriel, clear out of my way!" he shouted, as he ran to the center of the dance. He slid Oro'quiel out of its scabbard, and raised it high in the air. "Stop the Celebration! The Madroceans are attacking from the south! To arms!"

  The room froze silent for a period of about four seconds that seemed eternal, as the jovial countenances of the merrymakers shifted into something else, as their eyes cleared and took on an expression of cold recognition that Namakiera would be lost on this night. The sound of breaking glass filled the air, as the wine-filled chalices were quickly strewn aside, as every Taergeni present in that palace, Lord and Lady alike would run to their weapons, and shift their thoughts to the contingency plans discussed by their respective Elder Councils.

  Daecrynn's servants, returned to service from the bar, and brought for him his fitted moonsilver chain and plate full mail complete with helmet spires of gold, to denote his rank on the battlefield. Fully suited, he ran towards the penal tower alone, as people were running in opposition to their battle-stations. At the entrance to the floor where Andron was held, Calwain was making preparations to take the Prince of Madrocea with the Taergeni in retreat.

  "Set the Prince free! I shall meet with him as promised when circumstances allow, do you understand?" Daecrynn commanded.

  "Set him free?" Calwain cried in protest.

  "That is my command, and you shall do it at once," Daecrynn stated, before turning back down the stairs to meet with the Council of War at the front of the Palace.

  Calwain looked down at his chained and gagged prisoner, who stared back in a gaze of suspicion. "I shall do as the Kestiel says, young tyrant!" Calwain said with a scowl. "I shall take you to the border, and set you free."

  Daecrynn approached the Council of War at the base of the stairs with a distant look in his eyes, as he wondered at the fires from the first part of the Madrocean strike.

  "You set him free, correct?" Alrain asked.

  "I did just that," Daecrynn sighed. "I only wish that I talked to him while I had the—"

  "Lord Tuvitor, they are coming through the Kia’tendé Gate! We have to prepare for evacuation now," a messenger dressed in brown shouted.

  "I need a team of ten of the fastest men you can find," Daecrynn ordered. "I would like to slow the gah'raen down so more of us can evacuate the city."

  "Who will lead this team of knights, Sire?" the messenger asked.

  "I will. I have the eye of Oro'quiel to protect me," Daecrynn said.

  "Make that nine of the fastest men," Nadali said. "I shall join Lord Tuvitor."

  "Go with the Andule locals to Tuitari!” Daecrynn rebutted.

  Nadali slammed on Daecrynn's foot and glared at him. "I am going with you, d'nani. Do not deny my sword again!"

  Daecrynn sighed, and turned towards the flames. "I hope that messenger can find them fast, or they will have to find us."

  In the distance, the sound of a falling mountain filled the air, as the South Wall of Namakiera fell, destroying two streets of adjacent buildings.

  Oro'quiel began to ring in its song. Nadali and Daecrynn exchanged a knowing glance, and ran down the circular pathway around the southern gardens of the palace, and then down the great hill that lead directly from the front gates to the southern end of the city. They raised their swords in unison, with a team of nine knights behind them. They blasted through the front line of the guards, and took to the field in a frenzied melee. A multitude of soldiers withdrew from the shock of the strike by a mere handful of Taergeni soldiers. As the shock rippled through the army, Madrocean imperially draped Mastodons bucked, and stepped backwards.

  Daecrynn turned to Nadali, "Shall we withdraw to the tunnels now?"

  Nadali nodded swiftly.

  "Retreat to the tunnels. We are to meet with the other Houses in the Nali Canyon. Go now," Daecrynn ordered the knights.

  He and Nadali swiftly ran southwesterly towards Mitheldia walk, and out the main gate with many fleeing Taergeni, before running down a northwesterly path, the old Fidralinia Road over hills and grass towards a gathering of Taergeni knights preparing to defend the Andule Everwood from this new invasion.

  "Your majesty, you're safe! We were worried when our scouts and archers were talking of smoke and fire in Namakiera that all was lost. We are currently preparing to defend the Andule Everwood, as per Tiardan Kaewaya's orders," the Knight-Lieutenant rambled.

  "Stay with General Kaewaya's orders. I just require rest for myself and Lady Murana," Daecrynn said. "If you are to fight, I offer my sword."

  "Our unit is prepared for these sorts of situations. Only one with a sizeable amount of training can even hope to survive beside us. We will fight with our lives to protect you, but I ask that you do not fight by our side, for your own safety, sire," the Knight-Lieutenant said.

  "I don't think I know of your unit," Daecrynn said in wonder as he saw an unrecognized Taergeni nation's heraldry etched into their armor.

  "We are the First Centurion Knights of Mindule. It is good to know that the Son of Meldehan lives," the Knight-Lieutenant said.

  "I heard of the Centurions. Some say you're only a legend told to give Madrocean children nightmares," Nadali said.

  "We are as real as the Son of Meldehan is, apparently. Queen Cerena Charelle is with you. She sent us this far east to see if what she heard was truth, and apparently it is," the Knight Lieutenant replied. "We will shelter you as long as needed, but you may find our amenities to be minimal."

  "Do you know of the hidden road to Li'istrani?" Daecrynn queried.

  "I know of it, but I've never traveled it, I'm afraid," the Knight-Lieutenant answered. "From what I hear, there are several landmarks you must pass in order to get there, but I don't know which ones or the order. If you try to find it without visiting the landmarks in order, or if you try to take a shortcut, you will simply get lost in the Andule wood, or the Tanathiel flats, depending on which part of the road you get lost on."

  "This isn't going to be easy," Daecrynn commented.

  "Would any of your knights know perhaps?" Nadali asked.

  "It's not normal for Cerena Charelle to send messages 'across the bridge' with her Centurions. She has other means to reach the Lady of the Crystal Towers," the Knight-Lieutenant said.

  "Rayelle?" Daecrynn wondered.

  "Only if you know her on a personal level, milord," the Knight-Lieutenant replied as his eyebrow rose.

  "Lady Anda'raén?" Daecrynn asked.

  "I believe she wouldn't be offended if you addressed her as such," the Knight-Lieutenant replied.

  "Right," Daecrynn said. "Well she requested my presence, and so I must go to her."

  "Well, I don't know how helpful this will be, but I believe the first landmark on the hidden road from this direction would be Terthian's Wheel, to the southwest of here. I don't suggest going down that road until you have found a guide, however," the Knight Lieutenant advised.

  "Where can I find a guide that regularly travels the hidden road?" Daecrynn asked.

  "In Tanathiel, at a bar called The Dragon Tamer, there is a member of the merchants' guild named Ranteyu whose merchants regularly export taku bean and wine to buyers near Li'istrani," the Knight-Lieutenant explained.

  "Export? I thought Li'istrani was in Tarligean," Daecrynn said.

  "It is, but it isn't. You'll see," the Knight-Lieutenant replied.

  XXII.


  The Dragon Tamer

  Daecrynn and Nadali entered Tanathiel late at night, leaving their horses to graze in the open fields north of the city. They approached the gates, which were heavily guarded by Taergeni knights in rugged moonsilver platemail.

  “This is a Taergeni city. Identify yourselves,” the Knight-Sergeant ordered, addressing the couple.

  “Derefin Morcossi, bowyer and Lieutenant of the Ishaellar of Namakiera,” Daecrynn claimed, lifting his hood.

  “Then you are welcome in Tanathiel,” the Knight-Sergeant replied. “The Eight Stars is an inn I would recommend for the night, as their accommodations are apt for an officer of the Ishaellar.”

  “I need to meet somebody at the Dragon Tamer,” Daecrynn added.

  “The Dragon Tamer is a perpetual bloodbath, Sir. Be wary, watch your coin-purse and keep your weapon at the ready,” the Knight-Sergeant advised.

  “Sounds cozy,” Daecrynn remarked.

  A flash of mischief glimmered in Nadali’s eyes at the prospect of a drunken brawl, and passed as her thoughts shifted back to business. “Have you heard of a merchant’s guild based there?”

  “Not based at the Dragon Tamer per se, but there are a lot of strange folk, elfin but adorned in no manner familiar to me. They have dealings with a regular at that bar, a rowdy merchant from Iacala by the name of,” he paused, trying to place the name.

  “Ranteyu?” Daecrynn asked.

  “Yes,” the guard clarified. “You need directions to the Dragon Tamer?”

  “That would be helpful, Sergeant,” Daecrynn nodded.

  “Travel up Rhyawa Walk, and turn at the first fountain, to the left down Tyrieste Alley. At the end of the alley you should see a dark wood building. Usually there will be a fight in front of the door, unless it’s a slow night,” the Knight-Sergeant explained. “I could ask one of my men to escort you if you—“

  “Not necessary,” Daecrynn stated.

  “It is your prerogative, sir. Be careful,” the sergeant advised.

  The Knight-Sergeant turned and unlatched the West Gate, as two others pulled cables, opening the gates to allow Nadali and Daecrynn entrance. They trudged down silent cobblestone streets, lit with elevated Madrocean glow orbs housed in black iron lampposts, ornately embossed with knot lattices meshed into geometric patterns. A gentle snow flurry that did not stick to the ground made the streets slippery. In the distance, a crow called, giving Daecrynn pause.

  “It is said that some crows are used as spies,” Daecrynn whispered.

  “Nonsense,” Nadali dissented. “Cirethian propaganda woven into our own legends. That’s their way. Didn’t Kethral or Ariandi ever make you read The Barbarian World?”

  “I don’t think it is like that,” Daecrynn added as he stared suspiciously at a high flag post. In his mind, he could see a crow standing atop the pole with emerald eyes. He drew his bow, and in deep concentration, fired. A black shape atop the flag post flew into the dark sky, blending in it.

  “D’nani, what was that about?” Nadali wondered.

  “A crow,” Daecrynn revealed. “Somebody in Cireth knows we are here. We must find this Ranteyu quickly.”

  “The fountain is just another street up,” Nadali indicated.

  They trudged over slippery cobblestones to the emptied out marketplace, where the street forked around a large fountain before branching out into the four cardinal directions.

  “They probably expect me to seek the Jea Daldani here,” Daecrynn noted. “Not a band of merchants.”

  They continued around the fountain, and down the alley to the left, alive with music and much chatter.

  “Del Chara’a Eroshniel! Ka natheta Tarligean! Nai Iacala!” a voice in the distance bellowed in Fen’yi. Glass shattered in the background, as two chainmail clad Taergeni were fighting two elves in leather with their heads shaved around the top of their head, with the hair on top grown long, and tied back in a ponytail.

  “I don’t speak Old Elvish you rabblerousing piece of Iacala filth,” the larger Taergeni hollered, as he drew his j’haene. “How about I cut your ponytail off and use it to weave bowstrings?”

  “The line of Thetali is dead. Until Tarligean tosses the throne down Tola’nei ledge and into the ocean, it is false!” the wild eyed elf in leather shouted.

  “Fool! The Madroceans are your enemies too! Surely you know the Son of Meldehan lives! The line of Thetali lives on!”

  “I will show you a fool as I pierce your throat and end your life,” the wild-eyed elf cried.

  “Never has there been war between Tarligean and Iacala,” Daecrynn said as he approached. “Put your blades down.”

  “What do you know, stranger?” the wild-eyed Iacalan demanded.

  “I know the line of Thetali is alive and well, for now anyways,” Daecrynn disclosed.

  “There is but one ai-Tu’fayator left, and his name is Terthian, Nai Iacala,” the wild-eyed Iacalan snarled as he waved his blade in Daecrynn’s direction.

  Daecrynn stepped back, almost losing his balance on the slippery cobblestones, and the drunken Iacalan slammed into a wall. “Whoa there! Put your blades down, you’ll hurt yourself! Now who is this Terthian Tuvitor?”

  “There is a bard in Iacala who acts as a sort of spiritual leader amongst the nation of Iacala, a popular speaker at the circle of K’ierella. Supposedly he’s very old, an elder brother of Veldaen, and the High Bard of Eroshniel to this day,” the larger Taergeni explained.

  “A great-uncle?” Daecrynn wondered aloud.

  The drunken Iacalan pulled himself slowly out of the muck.

  “Terthian is the last true remnant of Eroshniel’s legacy. Tarligean has become what it opposed to begin with, a New Mithuriel, sickeningly rife with castes and hierarchy, Lords and Ladies, Kings and Queens,” the drunken Iacalai ranted. “As for these tales of the Son of Meldehan, he is certainly as false as is his sword. The sword of Asutel Thetali would never bind itself to the hands of a false prince.”

  Daecrynn and Nadali exchanged glances, as Oro’quiel’s song erupted from Daecrynn’s scabbard.

  “What in—” the drunken Iacalan stammered as he stared at Daecrynn’s scabbard.

  “Sounds like a Kri’isen,” the quieter Iacalan marveled.

  “It’s nothing. A false sword,” Daecrynn quipped.

  “In the hands of a false prince, no less,” Nadali added.

  The song of the sword ceased.

  “Milord!” the Taergeni gasped, dropping to a knee.

  Daecrynn winced. “Not tonight, I’m trying not to make a scene.”

  “Oh, of course,” the Taergeni complied, quickly standing up.

  “I seek Ranteyu Narenya,” Daecrynn revealed. “I understand he knows how to navigate the Hidden Road. Rayelle Anda’raén has requested my presence in Li’istrani.”

  “I am Ranteyu Narenya,” the sober Iacalan admitted. “I apologize for Dillan’s behavior. These Taergeni ales are a little strong for an elf of his fragile nerve.”

  “Fragile?” Dillan protested. “Why I have put away at least four times the ale you have, you weak—“

  “Hush,” Ranteyu suggested, pointing to his drunken companion.

  Dillan lipped words, but no sound came from his mouth. He shook his fist, crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. He glared menacingly at his partner, but Ranteyu ignored him.

  “Understand this, Son of Meldehan,” Ranteyu expressed. “I will take you to Li’istrani, but I expect due compensation for this journey. You are not my Kestiel, and I am subject to no King. Because your sword has the song of a Kri’isen, I accept your claim for now. I will guide you to Lady Rayelle’s tower.”

  XXIII.

  Terthian's Wheel

  “Without rage or malice, we forge this rebellion. With our will alone, we separate,”

  —Terthian Tuvitor

  Charter of K’ierella

  “It was at this circle we left behind your failed nation,” Ranteyu boasted. “Where a council of equals, a circle where all were
welcomed, Prince and commoner alike decided that Tarligean had lost its way, and how our new nation would stand.”

  Twelve stone pillars stood in a perfect circle, with a single pillar twice in height, roughly four men tall in its center. Tall grasses swayed in the cold wind, browning from frosts that came and went.

  Daecrynn studied the center pillar, and wondered at the Fen’yi runes etched in circles from top to bottom, forming a long declaration of universal suffrage, where the only laws writ in stone were the rights bestowed to all; where every man and woman were both King and peasant.